“I didn’t think you—” she started to say, but Hans shook his head, silencing her.
Indeed Hans did not smoke—as a spy, he considered it a liability. Smokers could leave the scent of nicotine wherever they went, and if he broke into a secure facility or was forced into hiding, he wanted no sign to give his presence away. However, since cigarettes were ubiquitous in Europe, he found them to be a perfect disposable means of concealing information. He sat on the bed next to Anna and pulled one of the cigarettes out. He pointed to the seam on the paper wrapping the cigarette, right in the middle.
“Microfilm,” he mouthed silently. He handed her the carton, then picked up the pencil and wrote again. “Be careful. Burn if necessary.”
She looked into his eyes, inviting him to share his thoughts with her. Yet Hans pulled away, crumpling up the piece of paper. He walked to the large coal furnace in the corner of the room, opened the fuel door, and threw the paper inside. He watched the paper catch and be consumed in a rapid burst of flame.
Anna held the cigarette pack in her hand and tapped its side with one of her fingers. As she considered the pack, her face began to darken. When Hans returned to bed, Anna was sullen.
“What’s wrong?” Hans asked.
“You should have seen the way they looked at me at the checkpoint today,” Anna said. “It was like I wasn’t even human.”
“Relax,” Hans said. They’re just trained to look that way.”
“Are they?”
“It’s more for show than anything. They’ve got to project authority.”
“Is that what they’re doing when they shoot someone who is trying to escape? Is that for appearances too?” Anna pressed, standing.
Hans wasn’t about to back away. “You know how I feel about that,” he said as he rose, his tone more argumentative than it should have been. Anna’s sudden attack had caught him off guard. “Why are you suddenly concerned about this?”
“Because you can’t go on living like this forever,” Anna said. She thought of the headline she had seen at the station. She knew Hans’ position could be even more precarious—he wore the uniform of his enemy. “What if they ordered you to shoot someone? What would you do?”
“That’s not going to happen—” Hans started to say, but he was cut off.
“Could you refuse?” Anna would not relent. “Or would you be just like the Soviets that drove their tanks over my Uncle Marek in Prague?”
“You know where my loyalty is!” Hans suddenly bellowed.
It was the wrong response. Hans’ aggression said more to Anna than his words, and at that moment it was as if he had personally commandeered the tank to crush her beloved uncle once again. Ashamed, Hans turned and walked to the window. When he finally regained some composure, he spoke quietly. “I’ve given fifteen years of my life for this work. You know the commitment I’ve made, and it’s not to them.”
Anna looked to her bare hand where a ring normally would have been, had the circumstances of her work not forbidden her wearing it. “I’m not just talking about commitment,” Anna said softly. “But identity.”
Hans turned back to Anna and looked into her eyes. “You know me. If there’s anyone who really knows me, it’s you.”
Anna saddened. “But you don’t know yourself. You don’t see it, but I do. There’s a part of you that’s fading, something that was there long before you were a soldier. You made a promise to me, and yourself, that it would always be there, but it can’t be when it’s always hidden. What will you be when it’s gone?”
Hans sighed. “I can’t leave now. I can’t hand this off to someone else. I’m in a position to act where only I can, and where I’m needed now. I knew what I signed up for, and so did you.”
Hans would not admit that it took him years to discover just how much of him was required in this service. “I’m sorry I can’t give you a more specific date. When things stabilize, when I’m no longer needed, that’s when I can go. But I’ll always remember who I am. Only you and I know that I am not Hans Brandt.”
Hans slept restlessly. The argument had not ended well. Anna insisted Hans needed to give more thought to his future. She agreed to give him some time to consider her concerns, and planned to return to meet him the following week on the island of Rügen. But she would not promise to come after that.
Hans had a vivid dream. In it, a nine year-old boy was standing with his father in a park. The father was dressed in a green American army service uniform, with peaked cap. Though he looked stern with his close-shaven haircut and angular face, the army officer leaned over to the boy and smiled.
“I’ve got a surprise for your birthday, Johnny,” the officer said.
“What is it?” the boy asked in anticipation.
“It’s a treasure hunt. I’ve put your present underneath a bench at the other end of the park.”
The boy, anxious to begin his search, started off when his father caught him by his shoulders.
“Wait a minute. It’s not quite that easy. In order to get your present, you’re going to have to watch out for a few things.”
“Like what?” the boy asked, somewhat perplexed.
“This is no ordinary treasure hunt,” the father said. “There will be other people looking for something too.”
“Will they be looking for my present?”
“No,” the father laughed. “They’ll be looking for you!”
“For me?”
“Uh huh. And you can’t let them get you before you get to your present, or they’ll win.”
“What happens if I don’t win?”
“Well, you won’t get your present.”
“That’s not fair!” the boy protested.
“Hey,” the father said as he gave his boy a sporting pat on the back, “that’s life.”
“But you can’t take away my birthday present!”
“Listen carefully,” the officer said, ignoring his boy’s protests. “You have to watch out for a man with a red balloon, a girl with a dog, and an old lady with a newspaper.”
The boy looked despondently toward the crowded park. “How am I ever going to spot them?”
The father looked at his watch. “You’ve got ten minutes to get to your present. Go!”
The boy started out across the park, keeping close to a grove of trees for cover. When he reached a large opening in the park, he dashed behind a clump of bushes and stayed there to watch the crowd. Forty feet to the northeast was a row of benches, all of them occupied by various people. The boy scanned over them until he noticed two with newspapers. One was a middle aged man who sat leisurely slouched with his legs crossed. He was smoking a pipe and casually turning the pages of the paper as he read. The other person held the paper open as he or she read, concealing his or her features. After watching for some time, the boy discovered that it was an old woman, discreetly peeking over the edge of the paper.
The boy crept behind the bushes to elude the old woman, then hurried up a small embankment to a gravel path where he continued through the park. He followed the path through a tree-covered section until he reached the next clearing. Suddenly he heard the sound of children laughing and running footsteps behind him. The boy dashed into the bushes and hid as a group of children ran past. None of them, however, had a dog with them. The boy looked out from the bushes and saw a girl out on the grass some seventy feet away. She was running in circles, laughing and chasing around a yappy terrier dog.
As the boy scanned ahead, he found much less cover. There were only two oak trees and a small clump of bushes where he could hide as he crossed the field. Though the girl seemed distracted by the dog, he would still have to hope for the right timing as he made his run between the trees out in the open. Taking a deep breath, the boy watched the girl and then darted to the first tree. He glanced out from behind the trunk, seeing that girl had not noticed him. The run to the second tree went as well as the first. But on the sprint to the bushes, he heard the dog bark and start to run in his direction. The boy tore from his cover and flew down the path, charging through another grove of trees and bushes. He heard the girl call out behind him, but he didn’t stop to see if she had spotted him or just been alerted to his movement by the dog.